Watch the Sky Burn
by Rise and Fall
Summary: When dream demons can tread the thin line between illusion and reality, between life and death, the world is thrown out of balance. Krissy, a girl who is thrown into a trainer's life by circumstance, is haunted-by her past, by the lives resting in her hands, and by the spirits that walk. Sequel to Locke and Key. A Nuzlocke Story.
1. Parallels

"_You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you."_

_-_C.S. Lewis

_"Just because I'm telling you this story doesn't mean I'm alive at the end of it."_

-_Savages_

* * *

I could sense the world around me moving—there was wind in the grass, and lights in the city beyond us, and a taste of rain on the night air. My left fist, a tight ball of flesh, was weeping blood from two torn fingers. My right hand trembled beside me, clutched at loose grass to secure me to the ground.

This was all subconscious observation.

The only things that truly seemed to exist were at a stand still. My throat lay bared to the moon and the snarling, snapping jaws of a beast with luminous yellow eyes.

"_And tell me, girl," _it spoke, its voice ragged and mocking, _"what do _you_ know of death?"_

I stared. My lip quivered involuntarily. The beast planted a heavy paw on my chest, pinning me beneath its hungry fangs. I met its eyes, as I had no choice.

They were molten gold, like nothing human—like nothing Pokemon.

"Everything," I said in response, wondering if it was to be my last word.

* * *

Ever wonder what it's like on the other side?

I'm sure it's crossed everyone's mind at some point, but this is especially true if you've watched someone die.

What do they see before their life flickers out? Some writers leave us with the impression that it is a light, a vision of purity and holiness.

Some would have us believe that it is our life, condensed into the radio-friendly edit of a thirty-second pop tune. I find that hard to believe—if there are gods, why curse us with the shitty mainstream version of what could be raw, bleeding art?

Maybe that's just me.

Maybe I'm crazy.

Probably am.

It seems to me that you cannot truly appreciate life until you know what lies on the other side.

Life and death are parallels, two sides to a tempestuous coin. Perhaps the gods flip those coins, and whichever side lands face-up is the path you are allowed to walk—for one more day.

Do we live on such an edge, blissfully unaware of the beast at our heels, the knife in the dark, the bullet in the chamber?

Perhaps.

However, how can we understand the gift we hold in our hands if we don't know what it costs to obtain that gift?

My name is Krissy Lejeune. I'd like to say that I'm not morbid by nature, but that'd be a bit of a lie. I've always walked on the stranger side, hoping to see a glimpse of the unknown.

I'm a writer, a thinker. My mind is my only true weapon. I cherish it, hone it like the lone samurai's sword.

What else do I have at my defenses—or my offenses, for that matter? I never imagined, after all, that I'd leave New Bark Town for any reason other than mandatory adulthood rites of passage. _All boys leave home, and girls, too. _Why, yes—yes they do.

I never believed I'd leave home with a Pokemon, with a mission. Professor Elm sent me from my childhood home, not my mother. He's the one who sparked the consuming fire that is my story.

In fact… for a writer, I believe I've walked closer to fiction in reality than I ever have with a pen on a sheet of notebook paper.

Blood is so much harder to erase than lead—and it stains far longer than ink.

My name is Krissy. And my story is one of life and death—

Of parallels.


	2. The Poem

**Watch the Sky Burn: **_A Nuzlocke Story_

Curiosity got the better of him. As the rest of the New Bark High students shuffled out of the school, he bent over, fingertips scraping the dirty linoleum.

The piece of paper was stained through to both sides. They'd used a heavy ink pen. The script was small, girly.

He stood back up.

_Shadow on a lake, cool and full of secrets  
Whisper, and the wind roars with you  
Winter follows at your heels  
Sigh  
Your breath chills the air  
But  
No matter how cold you become  
Your eyes are fire  
And your heart is strong  
Child of the mountain, mistress of the spring  
Hear my prayer  
And follow my song_

Alex stared at the scrap of paper, his mind working fast.

_She knows,_ he thought, with a touch of resentment. _Who else could this be about? What else?_

As vague and poetic as this girl tried to be, she couldn't hide her muse.

He glanced at the corner of the lined notebook paper. It was signed "K.", and nothing more.

The hallways were empty now. Sunlight slanted through the windows, lighting the place with a warm summery emptiness. The high school was closed for the summer—and "K" had already gone home, no doubt.

_Emma will want to read this,_ he thought, nodding to himself. Before he was discovered, he folded it carefully, slid it into his pocket, and ducked through a side door.

* * *

Krissy's mother was never home. She worked as a paralegal for a big time lawyer in Cherrygrove. As a result, she saw her only on the weekends.

Not that she was complaining. The two of them were oil and water—Krissy was quiet and sensitive, her mother was a loud, constant Type A, a workaholic who partied just as hard. She couldn't help but be glad that her mother was directing her energies into her job instead.

After all, with her house so quiet, she could get a lot more writing done.

Krissy threw her keys into the bowl in the kitchen and plopped into the nearest hardwood chair.

_I can finally finish this damned thing, _she thought with a half smile. The poem had been a quick draft after her very strange dream last night. Or was it a nightmare? Whatever it was, it had woken her with a jolt, and she'd wasted no time in scribbling out the strangest poem she'd ever written.

That was saying something, with Krissy. She'd been writing since she was seven, mostly about things most people didn't even want to think about. Death, loss, sorrow, things that went bump in the night—Krissy loved how it felt on paper, loved the glide of ink against her notebooks, loved the cold thrill in her heart when it was finished.

There was nothing she liked better than writing—and the creepier her subject, the better.

Last night, though…

She rummaged in her backpack for the lone sheet of paper, but it was nowhere to be seen.

The dream had been short, but it had seemed _real_. The kind of dream where the grass tickles your bare ankles, where the smoke stings your nose and your eyes water with the effort of staring into a blazing fire.

She sat back, puzzled and empty-handed.

Even now, her skin felt hot, like she was too close to an open flame… but it _was_ hot outside. May was almost always warm in Johto. The last day of school was traditionally a blazer.

_Where is it?_ She thought. Simultaneously, she remembered looking at a sky full of stars. And some kind of keening noise that broke her heart in the dream, drove her to her knees as tears kissed her cheeks and smoke settled on her tongue…

_Did I drop it? God, I hope not. How embarrassing… everyone already thinks I'm a total freak. _It really had more to do with the quiet shyness and the writing than anything else. She didn't dress all in black or cast spells on people. High school students were just judgmental.

Rubbing at her arms and wishing the air conditioner worked, she jumped up and went to her bedroom, sure she'd find it somewhere.

_No… I brought it to school... _She dumped over a box full of paper. None of them were lined, none of them dark with ink.

A shadow overhead, blocking the stars.

_At least it doesn't have my name on it._ Krissy raised up the comforter on her bed. Frustrated, she moved her pillows to the floor.

Wings of brilliant gold.

_Oh well. I'll rewrite it._

Winter… the wind and the rain…

She sat on her bed and shrugged. _I need to start taking sleeping pills, I think._

* * *

"And what the fuck is this?"

Emma reclined in her office chair, one high heel placed precariously on her desk. A cigarette dangled from her slack lips; there was a piece of paper in her long-nailed hands.

Alex sat back, studying her silently. She cursed with aplomb. The words sounded casual and sometimes sensual in her practiced mouth.

"Seriously, why did I want some bad poetry? You get this in a love letter? Because if you did… well, you need to find a girl who's a little less weird. Trust me." She smiled, blew smoke in his face.

"It's not a love letter." He waved her smoke away, annoyed. "You wanted me to find out if anyone in this town knew anything about it. Here you go."

She glanced at the poem with a little more interest. "You think she wrote this about…"

"What else?" He smiled. He knew he'd done well. Even if she wouldn't admit it, he knew he had.

"I'm wondering how anyone in this podunk town would know anything about… well, you know. A freak resurrection. No one even raises Pokemon here," she muttered.

"Not true. There's a guy who gives away Pokemon to people who want to start a journey."

She sat up quickly. Her high heels made a very loud _clack!_ as they hit the floor.

"Who is it?"

Alex blinked in surprised. He'd never seen her this animated. "Uh, he's some kind of professor. Graduated from the University of Kanto, then moved over here to open his own research center." He thought for a moment. "He's colleagues with Professor Oak. Or maybe he mentored him or something. I'm not all that sure."

Emma stared at him. Her eyes were sharp. It was like biting into a lime.

"I had no idea that there was a Pokemon research center down here," she mumbled.

"You wanna go look at it tomorrow?" He asked, feeling a little uneasy. Something had sparked in her—something he'd never seen. There was real emotion here.

It made him very nervous.

She leaned back. Trying to recollect her composure.

"Sure," she said, nodding. "We probably should… right?"

"Right," he said.

She put the slip of a poem on the desk. He watched her do it, wanting to read it again, but instead he got up and left.


	3. A Favor

**Watch the Sky Burn: **_A Nuzlocke Story_

**A/N:** This might be a good time to mention my rules.

1. You can only catch the first Pokemon you encounter in each new area.  
1a. Duplicates clause: If you've already caught the Pokemon you encounter, you get 3 tries to run into an uncaught one. If it doesn't happen, you get nothing.  
2a. Shiny clause: Shiny Pokemon can be caught and used regardless of the encounter number.  
3a. Gift clause: Gift Pokemon can be used.  
2. If a Pokemon faints, it's dead.

And that's it!

* * *

Emma was leaning over the hood of her car, her bitter green eyes settled on a point across the parking lot. Her white face was cold as stone; she reminded Alex of a statue in an underground museum.

"That's it." The boy said scornfully. His long hair was set aflame by the setting sun. "That's all. And there hasn't been a trainer here anytime recently, from the looks of it."

"Oh, there has been," she said, flashing him an odd smile. "There is one here now, in fact."

"Are you going in there?" He asked, taken aback. She was a little old to be a new trainer, sure, but if that's what she wanted…

"Not me." Emma stood, stretched. "You."

His mocking smile evaporated instantly. Alex didn't like that. Not one little bit. He had told Emma a thousand times that he was not trainer material—he'd told himself that a million times. And he wouldn't do this.

Not even for her.

"No," he said, as roughly as he could. "No, I'm not."

"You are." She grabbed him by the shoulder. Her long nails dug into him like the talons of a raptor. "You _have to_. And you will be a _great_ trainer, because it's in your blood. And you have me to help you."

He pulled away from her with as much force as he could muster. "What do _you_ know about being a trainer? And what do you mean, it's in my blood?" There was no way Emma Redstone knew _anything_ about his past. She had no ties to him at all. Not like _that_, anyway.

"I know that your father was a great trainer." She didn't make a move to touch him again; she only turned her angular face to the small building across the parking lot. The descending sun burned deep shadows into the shrubbery around it. "I also know that I was a great trainer, once. You have it in you. You just have to trust me."

"Why do _I_ have to do this, though?" Alex was losing the argument. He knew he was going to be a trainer, come hell or high water. It depressed him.

"We have much to do. Everything I've taught you up to this point was child's play, because we can't move into our operation without Pokemon." She nodded towards the little laboratory, which looked more like a cramped little restaurant. "But you can't just walk in there and ask for one."

"Why?"

"You don't have a trainer card yet, and we don't have that kind of time." She paused. "Not only that, but I don't want you in the system."

"I won't be able to battle any gym leaders," he said, blinking. "You have to be in the system to participate in any official Johto League—"

"Yeah, yeah, but what we're doing is _way_ more important." She turned, rummaged through the back seat of her junked out car. He saw the glint of sunset on metal, and a cold shiver shot through his spine.

Sure enough, Emma shoved the pistol into his hand.

"What are you telling me to do?" He asked, staring at it.

"Go in there, get your Pokemon, and get out. Answer no questions. Give no names. Shoot no one unless your life is threatened. When you're done, meet me out here." She kicked the shitty old getaway car with the toe of her boot.

Alex couldn't believe it. He touched his head lightly, wondering if he was hallucinating, if she had slipped LSD into his soda. "You want me to walk into that lab and shoot the place up like a 7-Eleven."

She smiled.

"I told you what I want. What we _need_. Now, don't tell me you aren't man enough to do it?"

"I don't know if 'man' is the right word… but I'll do it."

He took a shaky breath, then walked slowly up the sidewalk. The pistol disappeared beneath his black jacket.

* * *

"Krissy!"

_Mom's home,_ she thought with a slight smile. She'd been reading some of her old stuff and laughing—some of it was just terrible—but she was glad for the company.

"Coming!"

Her mom was laying in the living room, reclined on the couch. The muscles in her body were liquid with rest; Krissy admired the way her skirt suit skimmed her body. Her mother was everything a woman should be.

In looks, anyway. Krissy's mother's idea of being feminine was wearing high heels, low-cut blouses, and expensive lipstick that never wore off. One of the things they bickered about, in fact, was her daughter's refusal to wear anything but jeans and t-shirts. And, of course, the fact that she never wore makeup.

"_You have the features to be beautiful," _she'd sigh. _"But you won't help yourself. When are you going to stop being a little girl and become a woman? You're eighteen, for Christ's sake."_

"_Mom… I don't think being a woman means I have to wear all that on my face," _Krissy always replied.

No matter the subject—clothes, hair, makeup, attitude—her mother made her incredibly self-conscious; even now, standing in front of her after work, she was painfully aware of her plain face, her too-long blonde hair with no layers or style, and the white t-shirt that hid the shape of her torso.

Meanwhile, her mother's eyes—delicate blue, the same as her own, hardly a color at all—were lined in black and looking fiercely up and down her daughter's body. "Didn't you wear that yesterday?" She asked critically. She pushed a lock of gold hair behind her ear with a manicured hand.

"No," she replied. She was technically grown. Yet she somehow knew that her mother wouldn't stop harping on her until one of them was dead. "How was your day, Mom?"

"Rough." She kicked off her heels, rubbed her bare feet into the plush carpet. "Don is up to his chin in personal injury cases."

"Why? Has something big happened?" A big accident, she meant. Don Harper, attorney at law, was an ambulance chaser with the nose of a bloodhound.

"Yeah… a bunch of rich young trainers have been knocking at his door. It all has to do with something in Ecruteak, but I'm still finishing paperwork from his last trial." She sighed again. "Anyway, I saw Rich on the way home, and he wanted you to run up to the lab. He has a favor to ask."

"Rich" was actually Professor Richard Elm. He owned a laboratory in their quaint town that was a few blocks from Krissy's house, and she'd often spent her afternoons doing chores for him as a kid. The two of them were a little more than employer and employee, since she went to school with his son Ethan.

"Alright." She thought longingly of that box of bad, childish poetry on her bed, and then shrugged it off. She _had_ wanted company, and she certainly didn't mind doing Elm a favor. The day was still fairly young, after all, and she was out of school until next fall.

_University of Johto,_ she thought as she headed out the door. _I can't wait._

She didn't realize until she was halfway up the block that she didn't have any clue what the favor would be.

* * *

Elm was writing a paper for _Evolution_. His field had expanded in leaps and bounds since his graduation from U of K, and he had recently began to delve into the newer discoveries. After all, he didn't want to be left behind—he was considered one of the leading experts in Pokemon evolution, and he was damn well going to stay that way.

He glanced down at his laptop, reviewing what he'd written. _"There are certain energies surrounding objects that are magnetically drawn to the energies of certain Pokemon…"_ No, that seemed repetitive. His example: _"For example, Nosepass is drawn to the corridors of Mt. Coronet in the Sinnoh region, though it's origin is in Hoenn. There, if it is leveled up, it will evolve into Probopass, a Pokemon discovered in the Sinnoh region. How are the two connected? Another example is Eevee to certain stones found in nature…"_

He was thinking of Leafeon and Glaceon, of course, the newest evolutions discovered in the Sinnoh region. He had a suspicion that Eevee's adaptive abilities were far behind current comprehension and required deeper study…

Elm sighed, pushed his glasses up, and started to write again, when there was a knock on the door. He looked across his tiny lab; through the clutter and equipment, he could vaguely make out a shape through the window.

"Come on in," he called absentmindedly. He was expecting Miss Krissy Lejeune, his son's classmate. He had a favor to ask of her that he'd been planning for awhile, and he wasn't sure if she was going to be excited about it or not.

He was surprised. The boy who walked in had red hair that burned in the evening light. It looked like it was tied up behind his head. His face was lightly freckled, as was to be expected, but his eyes were almost black. _Not really your typical ginger,_ thought Elm, amused. He'd never seen this kid before, but he figured that he went to the high school in New Bark.

"Hi there," he said, standing up. "What can I do for you?"

The boy was wearing a black jacket. _Odd. It's fairly warm out…_ He closed the door behind him, then turned, piercing Elm with those dark eyes.

"I hate to have to do this, but I'm going to need you to put your hands where I can see them."

Elm half-stood, but he froze when he saw what was happening. The redhead had pulled a pistol out of his jacket, and it was aimed straight at him.

"Wh-what's going on here?" He sputtered in confusion.

"I know you give Pokemon out to rookie trainers." He nodded towards the back shelves, where there were numerous capsules resting, all with labels. "I'm here to get one."

"Did you really need to arm yourself to do that?" Elm asked, still shocked. "They're free, for God's sakes! All you'd have to do is register for—"

"I can't do that. I'm sorry." He steadied his grip on the pistol. "I'm going to ask you to back up to that shelf and give me one of your Pokemon. Then I'm going to leave. And you can call the police, but it won't really make a difference."

As he did as the kid asked, all the while watchful of the gun, there was another knock on the door.

Elm stared at it in dread.

_Oh, god, Krissy._

"Don't say a word," the redhead said softly.

He nodded. _Please go away, Krissy. Please._

There was another knock. He heard a soft voice from outside. "Elm? I know you're in there. Your car's out here."

He struggled with a blind hand to find a Poke Ball on the shelf behind him. When he pulled one out, he nodded. _Mareep. Not a bad choice. He should be happy with that._

The boy saw, though. His eyes were sharp.

"No. I don't want something you can catch outside."

"Look, this is all I have—" he said, urgently.

"Elm, I can hear you in there!" Krissy was sounding impatient now. "Look, _you_ asked me to come over, so if you're that busy…"

"Shit." The red-haired boy backed away. "I want one of your research Pokemon, not those low-leveled rookie things."

_My research Pokemon. How does he know about them? _He stared at the thief, wondering. _Who is this guy?_

"Go on. I don't even care which one. But I know you have three that are reserved for your research, and I want one of them."

He sighed, shook his head. "Those aren't on the shelf. They're under the desk—"

"_Elm! I can hear you!"_

With that, Krissy opened the door, a determined expression on her face. But it started to die when she took in what was happening.

The thief kept his gun aimed at Elm, but his face turned towards the girl. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave and say nothing to—"

"Are you _robbing_ him?" She asked, her voice shrill.

"Krissy, please go!" Elm shouted, and with that, the boy fired a shot.

Papers exploded beside him. He'd shot the filing cabinet behind his shoulder. Krissy let out a scream.

"God damn it!" The boy cursed. "Give me the Poke Ball now or I'll shoot _her_!"

He reached out, quick as a snake, and wrapped one arm around Krissy's throat, drawing her close to him. Her hair fell behind her, fiery in the sun that the open door let in. Her eyes caught Elm's, blue, pleading.

Elm quickly opened the box under his desk, grabbed a Poke Ball, and rolled it across the floor. The boy caught it under the toe of a heavy black boot.

"That's all I wanted." He took Krissy and shoved her between them. "Take care."

With that, he hurried out.

With him went a rare, expensive research Pokemon, a life or death situation, and all the air in the room.

Krissy's mouth was agape, her eyes enormous. She gingerly touched her throat, which Elm saw was faintly bruised.

"What the hell?" She asked weakly.

"I…" he didn't know what to say. So he grabbed another Poke Ball and rolled it towards her.

She took it, stared at it. "You call the police."

"Be careful," he said, wondering if he was in his right mind.


	4. There's No Turning Back Now

__**Watch the Sky Burn: **_A Nuzlocke Story  
_

**A/N: **Don't get confused. Everything will come together.

* * *

__It had been nearly an hour since Krissy had started from her home town on the trail of a criminal. She was now in the middle of Route 29, completely disoriented and more than a little upset.

_Is this another one of those crazy ass dreams?_

Krissy's side was starting to hurt. Her panting was loud. She was no athlete, and she hadn't had time to grab a car at all before this wild goose chase.

_Just a Poke Ball._

She slowed, then stopped altogether, her breath exploding out of her lungs. _They had a car,_ she thought resentfully. _A fucking getaway car. It was a planned-out heist! And now the police are probably there, but god knows what that'll accomplish._

The answer to that was probably pretend to take notes, "file a complaint", and go have a donut at the café down the street to commemorate a day of "hard work."

Krissy wrinkled her nose in distaste. The NBPD was insultingly pathetic. She was—sadly—probably a better bet for Elm's lost research Pokemon than any of the badge-sporting buffoons. A shy 18 year old writer who was mistaken for a weird Goth girl, more often than not.

She looked up, still breathing loudly, surveying her surroundings. The grass brushed her thighs. There were faint footsteps throughout the fields. She couldn't tell if they were wild Pokemon steps or people enjoying the nice summer evening, but it put her on guard.

_I have to be careful,_ she thought. _I don't have any _real_ protection, and I'm out here alone…_

The wind stirred her hair. It laid an evening-cooled hand against her cheek, and she suddenly wished she'd brought a jacket. Goose flesh erupted from her bare arms.

"It shouldn't be this cold," she said aloud. "It really shouldn't. It's the middle of May, for crying out loud."

_The dream… was it cold?_

It must have been. The poem she'd written spoke of winter and rain.

Krissy glanced towards the gravel road that led from New Bark Town to Cherrygrove. Although it was strewn with weeds and was a road less traveled (to say the least!), it'd been clouded with dust when she'd first started towards it.

Now the air on Route 29 was clear. They'd gotten away—to somewhere.

And now the day was darkening. She'd hardly gone anywhere. Elm and her mother were probably worried sick. _Well, Elm, anyway._

"Oh, jeez, Krissy," she muttered to herself, fighting the fear. "In the dark with wild Pokemon. Unarmed. Defenseless. Chasing criminals… what are you _doing_?"

Then, she remembered that she wasn't entirely unarmed. The ball latched to her belt seemed to grow heavier, all of a sudden, reminding her of its contents.

_I can't believe I'm about to do this,_ she thought, but she grabbed the Poke Ball and held it. It reflected the sunset's glare. Red, shiny, unused. _A research Pokemon. It's completely tame._

"But you'll have to do." She tossed the Poke Ball at the ground—for the first time in her life, she chose a Pokemon.

The glow hurt her eyes at first, and when it faded she saw spots. Krissy found herself staring dubiously at the Pokemon Elm had lent her. It was short and squat, the tip of its crowning leaf barely touching her calves. It was mint green, with luminous eyes; its thick neck was studded with seeds, as if it were wearing jewelry. _It looks... girly and sweet,_ she thought. Not really was she was going for.

"Hi, there," Krissy said awkwardly. "I know you probably don't know what's going on, but, uh…" Suddenly she felt ridiculous for talking to it. Could it even understand her? The little green monster sat, staring up at her with a blank expression. It clearly didn't know what to make of this socially awkward, stuttering blonde girl.

"I'm… I'm, uh, Krissy," she said. _As if it cares,_ she tried to remind herself. "I don't know if Elm gave you a name, or even what you're supposed to be, but… uh…" _Come on. Biology class. Evolution class… you made A's in all of them!_

Before she could figure it out, the grass behind her rustled. She turned just in time to see it part—but there was nothing there. Krissy could hear footsteps, light and firm, but she couldn't see what was causing them.

The air cooled considerably. Her teeth clacked together once, half in fear.

"Hello?" She asked. The Pokemon at her feet humped its back like a cornered beast, and Krissy could swear it was growling.

"_Look beyond the trees,"_ she thought. Wait, she didn't think that. Did she?

_What the hell?_

"_Prepare for first blood. Are you ready?"_

"Ready?" She whispered. "Ready for what? What are you? Am I hallucinating?"

There was still nothing. The sky was dark purple now. She couldn't even hear the nocturnal Pokemon coming out to play—she could hear wind and the quiet, toneless voice in her head, but that was it. Even Elm's Pokemon had stopped its growling.

"_You must be ready. There's no turning back now."_

"Hey! Are you stupid!"

Krissy whirled, her heart still beating frantically. There he was, crashing through the trees. His hair was no longer tied behind his head; it fell to his shoulders, half as long as her own untrimmed hair. He had ditched the black jacket, and was now wearing a nondescript white t-shirt.

She didn't know what to say. Her entire mission had been based on finding him, but she hadn't prepared for this. He'd found her. "You—you need to give me the Pokemon," she said, sounding as frightened and uncertain as she was. _Idiot,_ she thought despairingly.

The redhead seemed amused. "You came out here to beg for this Pokemon back? After I aimed a gun at your head?"

"It doesn't belong to you," she said lamely.

The Pokemon by her feet growled again. She glanced down; the leaf on its head was tilted forward, its tiny teeth bared. _Atta boy! _She thought.

"Well. How about this." He took it from his belt then—she saw it gleam. Elm's stolen Pokemon. "If you can beat me in battle, I'll give it back to you. If not…" he shrugged, then smiled. "Then you can go home and cry like the little punk you are."

"Little punk?! I'm not the one who walked into a lab and stole a Pokemon!" Krissy flared. The _nerve_ of this guy! "And I bet we can beat you!"

_Stupid,_ she immediately thought. _I don't even know how to talk to a Pokemon, much less fight with one._ She looked at the growling thing by her feet. _Is it capable of fighting...? Oh god, what have I done!_

"Fine." He threw the Poke Ball, and it spilled to reveal a hunched-over rodent with a long face. It looked sleepy and disinterested.

"Go!" Krissy nudged the snarling leaf-thing with her foot. "Go beat that guy up!"

It ignored her, continued growling and snapping like a deranged mutt. "Go on! I said go beat on him!"

"You really are dumber than you look, aren't you?" The boy laughed. "Cyndaquil, use Smokescreen!"

The little beast parted its narrow maw, and a stream of thick, black smoke filled the air between them. The smoke invaded Krissy's eyes and lungs, and she started hacking almost immediately. Her companion's growling turned into a garbled cry.

_Oh, duh… Pokemon have specific moves,_ she thought with embarrassment, wiping her streaming eyes. _But… I don't know what this Pokemon is. It's no ordinary Sentret or Pidgey… I've never even seen it before… how am I supposed to know what attacks it can use?  
_

"Now, use Tackle," the thief commanded. Cyndaquil charged forward, and even through the clearing haze, Krissy could see it launch headfirst into her own Pokemon.

_That's it,_ she thought. _A universal move._ "Tackle!" In a flash of light green, it moved forward, but it was neither as quick nor as accurate. The move missed as it stumbled around in the smoke.

"Jeez. You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?" She looked up, bewildered. His smug face became clearer as the smoke blew away. "Smokescreen lowers accuracy." With that, he nodded to his Cyndaquil. "Go on. Tackle it again."

"Tackle!" She ordered again. Before the little Grass type could stand, the thief's stolen goods had smashed it down into the dirt.

"Come on… get back up," she cried nervously. It didn't. It rolled its gleaming eyes her way and uttered its first discernible noise: _Chica._

"I feel kinda sorry for you. You're brave, but you're clueless." The redhead walked over. She froze as his hand disappeared at his side, but he only pulled out the Poke Ball, not a gun. "Return." The rodent-like thing disappeared in a weak red beam. "And that's why I'm not going to kill your Pokemon."

"I don't understand," she said helplessly. "You can get a Pokemon pretty much anywhere. Why can't you just give Elm's back? I'll help you get one…" Krissy trailed off, stung by the look of rebuke in the thief's black eyes.

"I'm not giving this back. I need it. And you weren't tough enough to take it." He turned brusquely, walked off. "Tell Elm he'll thank me someday."

Krissy could only watch him go, disheartened. "Who is he supposed to be thanking?"

He stopped, turned back. His red hair stirred. "Alex," he said.

No last name. No explanation. He disappeared into the trees, and Krissy made no move to follow him.

She sat down heavily, not caring if she got her jeans dirty. Her little Pokemon was smashed into the dirt. It moved its head towards her limply, beseeching her with its eyes to make its pain disappear.

"I'm sorry, little guy," she mumbled. "Apparently I wasn't meant to be a trainer." She reached for it, took it into her arms. It fit nicely. The smell that it gave off was beautifully sweet, a summery scent of fresh-cut grass and ripe evening air.

"_Chica,_" it groaned. It sounded like an agreement to Krissy.

She sighed. "I don't really know what to do now. I guess we should go back, huh? Elm will fix you up."

But as she prepared to stand, the little Grass-type jumped down. "_Chica! Chic!_" Its eyes were bright, red as rubies.

"Are you kidding? That guy just pummeled you. Elm will heal you and let my mom know I'm not dead and…" Krissy trailed off. The Pokemon was staring her in the eyes. _This thing has a little more determination than I do, apparently,_ she thought, smiling.

"Well, okay. Let's head on to Cherrygrove, then. We'll heal you up, and we can ask the attendants if they've seen… Alex." She wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but her new little friend nodded with pleasure.

"But I've got to call you _something_." She pondered this briefly. "Are you a boy?" When it cocked its head, she got a feeling that it was answering yes. Anyway, she was getting a masculine feel from it, despite its girly appearance. "Okay. How about Leonard?"

It shrugged, then nodded. 'Leonard' it was, then.

"Well, let's go, Leonard," Krissy said, smiling as he jumped up and scurried in front of her, eager to lead the way.

Around her, the sky darkened further, and the night sounds were shrieking already.

The air was cooling steadily, and although she had briefly forgotten the voice in her head, there was a shadowy specter at her heels, blending with the night, embodying the darkness.


	5. Something Legal

**A/N: **Whoo, I should be back from hiatus! I was stuck because the beginning of the games are so boring, and to be honest, I didn't want to write about it in the least. After all, by Chapter 4 of _Locke and Key_, Leaf already had three Pokemon.

So, I'm going to ask your forgiveness for two things: the speeding ahead, and the random first person POV. If you'll look back at the first chapter, it was in Krissy's POV; I need the story to be back that way. If I deviate, forgive me; sometimes I'm going to have to do that.

If it's first person, it's ALWAYS going to be Krissy's view. If it's third person, it will be obvious who's view it is written in.

Anyway-enough of all of that rambling. Enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

* * *

I had been gone for three days.

How long was three days? How much did it matter, when I wasn't in school, had no job, and was legally an adult? Almost depressing. I could lay here on my back, looking up into the swollen gray sky, until I withered away, and no one would even care.

"_Chika!"_

Well, not entirely true. I turned my head weakly, seeing the squat green monster I'd recently befriended. The expression on his face was anything but amused. His leaf drooped in the humidity, but his ruby-sharp eyes were fierce and bright.

"What?" I asked, sighing. "I need a break. We've been training all day, and I'm starving… people need to eat, you know."

Leonard looked at me dubiously. I wondered if Pokemon ate. Well, of course they did; they had to. Damn if I could remember what or how much or when, though…

"You're probably hungry too, huh? You haven't eaten anything either, really... Not since those granola bars..."

He stared, then headbutted my limp arm. I groaned. _Do I have to keep going? I was doomed from the start. Chasing a criminal in the dark…_

"Screw granola bars. We need real food." I sat up, brushing dirt off of my t-shirt. The one good thing I'd found was that the building in Cherrygrove with the bright sign and the busy counter was a Pokemon Center. It healed the little critters for free, and it fed trainers and Pokemon a small amount as well. I'd taken as many granola bars as possible when she wasn't looking, and shared a few with the disagreeable creature beside me.

Leonard had eaten them ravenously, nipping at my fingers with a velvety mouth. I was surprised to see that his breath smelled like honeysuckle. Obviously better than whatever mine smelled like at this point.

The Pokemon Center had a pay phone as well, but I had no change. I just had to hope that my mom wouldn't freak. She'd never even think to stop inside the Pokemon Center on her way to the office, either; she wasn't exactly trainer material.

Which made me think. Was I?

The past three days had been long and arduous. After Alex had beaten us and evaded me once again, I'd spent an evening in the Cherrygrove Pokemon Center, where I'd stared up at the ceiling and counted to one hundred, waiting for sleep. All I could think of was the battle—if you could call it that. It was more like a beating or a disgrace, really.

But that rush… was there anything in the world like that? Except for drugs, probably. Was there anything in the _legal_ world that was like that?

Now, I'm no athlete. You would never picture me as a trainer, an adventurer, an explorer. I was due for college in the fall. Economics major, probably. Or something equally nerdy or boring.

But now, sitting in the dirt with Leonard after a strenuous training session, all I wanted to do was fight.

After that defeat—and that sleepless night on a pull-out bed with a moth-eaten blanket—Leonard and I had gone into the tall grass and trained. Crowing Pidgey with swift wings; fanged Rattata with quick feet; small, panicked Sentret—we had pummeled them all.

And when he learned Razor Leaf—blade-like foliage spinning from his crown leaf, piercing the flesh and feathers and bringing drops of scarlet, beads of life… I had burned for a full hour with that adrenaline, and Leonard was much stronger than he'd been before.

Could I even go back to New Bark Town? Could I ever face that boring, myopic life again? My face in my mother's mirror, disappointed—the mirror expected beauty and got plain, pale, geeky. Now I could feel the color in her cheeks, the wind in my unwashed, tangled hair.

I felt like a wild, feral beast myself—the elements on my side. I never wanted to be Krissy Lejeune again, useless and sadly alone in her two-story house, living with her mother, scared and friendless.

And as I looked at Leonard, staring at me hotly, I realized that I didn't have to go back. I was already a trainer, and I already had a mission—find Alex what's-his-name, retrieve Elm's Pokemon, and bring it back to him.

College didn't start until September. I had _plenty_ of time to enjoy my life—for once!—and I was going to do it.

I just had to tell my mother.

* * *

"You think you can beat me?"

A path beyond Cherrygrove City—derailing from the main highway, a slope lined with cedar trees and knee-high grasses—had taken me to a quiet road studded with trainers. I couldn't even hear the bustle of the city anymore.

Just trainers' challenges and Pokemon cries.

It's what I'd come to hear, thirsting for battle and something else as well.

"I _know_ I can," I lied, smiling and testing my newfound confidence. Well, my made up confidence. My knees were trembling behind my dirty jeans.

The boy smirked. He was a cocky little shit; he looked all of ten, with a backwards hat, sagging jeans, and a ridiculous t-shirt involving some kind of squirrel and nuts with a written genital joke underneath. "Bring it, bitch." He threw a Poke Ball that split when it touched the ground.

I stared, a little dubiously. "Tough talk for a boy with a Rattata." I felt exponentially better. "Leonard, Razor Leaf!"

Darting out from beside me, Leonard sprayed a collection of sharp leaves from the twirling leaf on his skull. The Rattata rushed towards him, but the leaves moved through its dusky purple fur and flesh, and it collapsed. Blood spurted as the leaves fell to the ground.

"What? How the hell did you do that!" The kid shouted, but it wasn't really a question. It was resignation. He knew I'd won.

_I'd won my first battle!_

I collapsed, shaking knees giving way under my weight, and Leonard filled my arms. I fell back, laughing, as he squirmed and kicked against my vice-like hug. "We won! Oh my God! Who would have ever thought?"

"You mean you thought you'd lose?" I glanced up, the smile falling from my face. The kid—who'd gone from small gangster to vulnerable kid in a few seconds—was cradling his bleeding, exhausted Rattata and looking at me. "That's not the attitude of a real trainer."

"Well, you see, I'm not really a… a, uh, real trainer," I explained, sitting up. Leonard leapt up, obviously glad to be free from my grip. "I'm not licensed right now."

"You just… I just fought an unlicensed trainer?" The kid cried. "Am I gonna get put in jail?"

"No, no! We don't have to tell anyone. Look… I'm on a mission."

He looked up with new interest. "A mission for what?"

"I'm looking for someone. A guy about my age, with long red hair. He stole a Pokemon, and I'm trying to get it back."

"Isn't that, like, the police's job?"

"Don't you have to pay me for winning?"

His smirk returned. "Not if you don't have a license, I don't!"

_Oh, fuck me,_ I thought, despairing. _He's right._

There was only one thing left to do.

Find my mother at her office. Beg her for money. Get a trainer card. And _then_ continue my search for Alex the thief.

I sighed. "Well. Thanks for the experience, I guess."

With that, I pushed myself to my feet, and struggled back up the slope to Cherrygrove.


	6. To My Readers:

**A/N: Guys! I have finally decided to keep this going because my head was filled with brilliant ideas that I have to try out.**

**Unfortunately, my game cartridge with my old file on it has completely disappeared. This happens pretty often in my house, especially with all the kids.**

**I'm going to restart the file and start writing again. I'll have to completely redo the pages I have, which is a little sad, but I am confident that I can do it better.**

**This is still a sequel to **_**Locke and Key**_**. It's still a HeartGold fanfic/storylocke. If you want to catch it on the Nuzlocke forums, I may be posting it there too. I'm not sure yet.**

**In any case, look for the new and improved **_**Watch the Sky Burn**_**! It's coming and coming soon!**

**Thanks for your patience, guys.**

**-Rise and Fall**


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